~A poem~
By Damien Riley 2024, age 55, marital status: Single
As a baby I cried.
Am I over it now? It’s been so long.
As a toddler I cried less but still did it when I got sore,
Never realizing it doesn’t help the way things “are.”
Then I got to puberty and those “glory days” of sexual lore.
I never put my lust on the shelf.
Good to know now as a grand authority in the land that I was always well doing that shit.
Sick, perverted visions make new humans
and
dynasties with horny golden statues.
As a 20 something I lived running without looking and
I fell into a salty well.
In my 30’s I grew into my own skin, I had skills maybe, I thought, worth booking
But no one called
for the longest spell.
I picked up a wife while on horseback, f*****d her in Seattle and everywhere, even on my saddle.
I was not f***less in Seattle, one can rightly say.
Romance is the strangest thing, I heard her say it every day.
My 40’s were nice but somewhat loud.
Like Elwood P. Dowd
I was alone in a crowd.
As a 52 I cried. Slurpily, sloppily, sloblikingly.
No one heard that (until now) and I’ll not leak these eyes again over the creature (though a lively visage she WAS)
I’m still alone, but not wholly.
You are here still.
8 years old we went to see Star Wars Ep 4
You still hang around me
I can’t see you except in photos. Feathers show up too.
Well, my fervent friend we’re still alone
But happy now I can say.
We’re still alone in our 50’s, just like at 8
But I still have you … Me, me You.
____----------- _____
\~~~~~~~~~~/~_--~~~------~~~~~ \
`---`\ _-~ | \
_-~ <_ | \[]
/ ___ ~~--[""] | ________-------'_
> /~` \ |-. `\~~.~~~~~ _ ~ - _
~| ||\% | | ~ ._ ~ _ ~ ._
`_//|_% \ | ~ . ~-_ /\
`--__ | _-____ /\ ~-_ \/.
~--_ / ,/ -~-_ \ \/ _______---~/
~~-/._< \ \`~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ##--~/
\ ) |`------##---~~~~-~ ) )
~-_/_/ ~~ ~~
Me.
For you,
For me,
For you,
For you,
For me.
As a baby I cried. The minute she lied, I felt that electrical itchy feeling all over again. It stops the heart. Mine keeps going it would seem.
We’re always gonna be alone from here on out, Mr. Me. Dane. Nothing matters, sorry.
But we’ll
Never
Be
Lonely.
We’ve had decades to cope and find a way through, still smiling, always jocular.
We’re always gonna be alone because logic says we have to be. But as for me? You and Me will never be lonely. We’ll always be free. Will you go steady w Me, me, the one I call babe is usually a she.
My sisters are right. Love is all around. I may have already met my latter day life companion.
IF SO! Uni, keep her safe:
